Memory Loss
by Utopiadoesntexist
Summary: Hanna, Sam and Dean's younger sister, loses her memory after breaking up with her boyfriend. At first, she only forgets the past weeks, but she begins to forget more and more as time goes on. Can Sam and Dean figure out what is happening and stop it before Hanna loses everything? (sisfic)
1. Chapter 1

I **do not own any of the Supernatural characters. Author's notes will be in bold. Please review! -xoxo**

Hanna-16

Dean-25

Sam-21

"Never call me again!" I slammed the door in Drew's face with tears spilling down my face. I would talk to Mara tomorrow, that bitch. She thought she could pull one over on me, with my boyfriend. Well, she could take him, for all I care, Drew and I were finished. Now, the only thing I had to do was make it to my bedroom in the motel without Sam and Dean noticing me crying. That would just bring questions, and their weird brotherly instincts to go confront Drew. I wanted to wait until tomorrow to deal with this shit. I had stolen a few of Dean's beers from his room for my date with Drew, but since it was cancelled, I just wanted to go sit in bed, cry, and get drunk.

So, that's exactly what I did. I was able to make it past Sam and Dean's room, which wasn't difficult, because the sore was shut and the TV was on and make it to the separate bedroom I got since I was the girl of the trio. I opened the mini fridge and popped open one of the beers. Dean would be mad I stole them, but wouldn't care if I was drinking. Sam, on the other hand...

So I was discreet. I downed the first bottle in no time, and quickly moved onto the next. Once I had finished that one too. I began to feel the affects of the alcohol taking form in my lightweight body. The tears had continued to fall this entire time, but I had forgotten why. Then I remembered again and a whole fresh wave of sadness rushed over me and I attempted to cover a loud sob, but failed miserably.

"Hanna?" Dean walked into my room, with Sam on his heels. "You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, just swell." I responded, pushing through their broad frames in the doorway and heading towards the exit of our room. "I'm just gonna go take a walk," I sniffled, facing my back towards my older brothers.

"Hey, Han," Sam said, "Why don't you stay here, alright? We're in the middle of a job, and you fit the victims requirements." I ignored him, throwing on my shoes and grabbing a coat.

"Hey! Hanna, get your ass back here." Dean scolded, sitting down on the couch and patting the space next to him. I faltered, and couldn't keep my emotions in check. I sighed, and tears came streaming down my face as I sat next to Dean. He put his strong arms around me and I held onto them with all I had.

I know 16 is the age people associate with finding their true love, but that's what it felt like. Every since we were 13, me and Drew had been in love, and we had friends even before that. When dad said I was old enough to go on hunts with the boys and stop leaving me in the dark at home with a nanny last year, I was torn. Yes, I wanted to see my brothers and help them kill the evil sons of bitches, but Drew, the love of my life, was back in Tennessee. Eventually, he was the one who convinced me to go with my brothers, and he never failed to find me and take me out during me free time. And then I figure out all of this time it was for me best friend Mara, that he was just trying to get closer to her? I couldn't handle it, I just couldn't.

As I continued to sob, Dean held my shoulders with his arms straight. "Listen. I won't ask you what happened until tomorrow, you get one day to deal with it yourself. But when you tell me and Sammy, I promise you we will hunt down the bastard who hurt you, okay?" I nodded at him, and tried to compose myself. "Now," he said, "You want a beer?"

Sam started, "Dean, she's only-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know she's 16, but we're here, and nothing bad will happen to her, she's fine. Han, do you want one?"

"Yes please," I responded guiltily. Even Dean wouldn't give me more after two, given I was such a lightweight. But I took it, and downed the entire bottle before Sam had even taken a sip of his own.

"Hey now. It took me years before I could do that." Sam said, glancing at the empty bottle in front of me. "How many times have you had a beer?"

"Maybe she's just stronger than you Sammy," Dean smirked, and I smiled feebly, wiping tears out of my eyes.

All of a sudden, my eyelids felt like they weighed a thousand pounds, and my brain felt too dense to process. Usually, when I passed out drunk, which I had been known to do on occasion, the sleep came like a relief, something that made me float. This weariness made me feel like I was drowning. I rubbed at my temples, trying to wake myself up.

"Hanna... Hanna! What wrong?" Sam was in front of me, holding my shoulders.

"Relax Sam, she had some before I gave her the beer, she's probably just passing out from the alcohol." How did he know? I thought I was careful. But Dean was wrong about one thing; this was not me passing out. I had been drugged, I could sense it. But before I could verbalize this to Dean, the sleep caught hold of me and my head fell limply into Dean's lap.


	2. Chapter 2

Ugh, my head. The pounding was resonant and repetitive in my brain, punishing me for something, I didn't know what. The light coming in through the windows of the small, paisley printed motel room. I squinted, and rubbed my eyes with the back of my hands to clear the dancing fuzzy spots out of my vision. My gaze rested on the piles on empty beer bottles lying in front of me. Wow, I must be so wasted, I don't remember anything from last night. Come to think of it, I don't remember anything for a while back, maybe a week?

I look around, panicked to see where I might have taken myself last night, silently begging not to see a greasy guy standing in the room. Thank God, it was only Dean. He smirked at me, and threw a greasy pork sandwich into my lap. "Best hangover cure ever invented," he boasted. I gagged and threw the limp sandwich into the trash.

"Where the hell are we," I mumbled, rising slowly off of the couch. I swayed, and almost fell back down if it wasn't for Dean, who steadied me with a palm pressed against the small of my back. Dean looked down at me with a smug face.

"I didn't think you had that many last night, I guess I was wrong. You are smashed, Hanna." He started to guide me to the table. "Doesn't matter. We have work to do, and you are gonna suck it up like the almost adult you are." I groaned in frustration, and plopped down at the table.

"Fine," I complained. The case would come back to me, I just had to be reminded. "What are we dealing with again?"

Dean replied, "Not sure yet, but the victims, all female, all died with their brain cuts out of their skull. Pretty specific if you ask me." I almost puked at the thought of the brains being separated with the women's head. "So, now we just gotta talk to the friends and family of the deceased, see if they have anything in common."

How wasted must I have been? I don't remember any of this. "Where were we before this?" I asked Dean, trying to place what day it was.

"We were hunting a werewolf." Nope, didn't remember that either.

"When did we kill that spirit who went after the ballet dancers?" I asked, finally remembering the last case I actually remembered.

"Hanna, that was more than a week ago, we have had three cases besides this one in between now and then. Are you okay?" Dean bit his lip, his telltale sign when he got nervous.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry." I would probably remember something sooner or later. "I'm going to hang out with Drew for a bit. Call me if you need anything," I told Dean, and left the motel with my phone.

Standing outside the dreary motel, I dialed Drew's number. He answered after the first ring. "Hanna, listen to me, I can explain everything. The thing with Mara was a stupid thing, and I never wanted to hurt-"

"Wait-what thing with Mara? Did you hook up with my best friend?" I was in shock. How could my boyfriend for more than two years sleep with my best friend?

"Han, are you kidding with me? You found out last night." Oh. That explains a lot. Still, it felt like a fresh wave of betrayal and sadness rushed over me.

"I never want to hear from you again!" I slammed my phone shut and rushed to the back of the motel for solitude. Hot tears streamed down my face as I flushed, embarrassed with my own stupidity. This was ridiculous. Apparently, I had already gone through this whole mess, why should I do it all over again.

But something didn't feel right. Even with the drinks, I should still have some sort of deja-vu when thinking about Drew, but there was nothing. As if it never happened, so it felt new, like a new wound in a place that you knew had been injured before, but it didn't leave a scar.

I straightened up, leaning against the wall. I guess now I have no excuse to stay away from this case. To be honest, I hated these cases, they just reminded me of dad, which reminded me of him dying, which, to say the least, was not the most pleasant thought in my head. But, Drew and I were finished, and there was nothing else to do here in, well, wherever I was.

I rubbed the tears from my eyes and walked back to our room. I used my key and opened the door to see Sam and Dean, about to head out.

"Hey, you tagging along after all?" Sam joked, "Something wrong in Drew and Hanna paradise?" Dean snickered when Sam said this. Oh God, I felt the tears coming again. No, please, not now, just let them make fun of me and lets not talk about anything serious, it's barely 10 in the morning. So much for that. Even just the tiny, tear that escaped from my eye caught both brothers' attention immediately.

"Hanna, what's wrong? Is this about last night?" Dean grabbed my shoulders and looked my dead in the eye.

"What happened last night?" I said, wondering what Dean was talking about.

"You don't remember any of that? Nothing? How you came in crying and then passed out on Dean's lap?" Sam asked, concern furrowing his brow.

"No." I replied, starting to get a little worried myself. The hangover symptoms had worn off fairly quickly, and I should now be able to remember at least some of last night events. "My memory has been a little foggy lately. I can't really remember-"

"She can't remember an entire week, Sam. That's way more than what a few beers is capable of." Dean turned back towards me. "Why were you crying?"

"It, nothing really. Just something with Drew," I mumbled, not wanting to get into the details. "He, um, did something that I didn't want him to do." That's all I was going to say for now. This conversation could wait for another time. "C'mon, let's go."

I saw Sam and Dean cast worried glances at each other, but they agreed, and we headed out to the Impala.


	3. Chapter 3

**So, just for background info, John Wincester had died two months ago. I'm not really following the plot of Supernatural, but he did die. I hope you enjoy! Please review, and I do not own Sam, Dean, or John.**

So the interviews were interesting. The men were all in relationships with the women who had died, but they all had falling outs exactly a week before the women were murdered. They said the fight had been big, and ended the relationship, but the girl called them back the next day, claiming to have forgotten the whole thing. Then, the next day, she was missing, and they couldn't find them until she ended up at her house, dead with her brain cut out of her head. The mean were miserable, claiming that they women were their "true loves," which I might have believed before Drew and I broke up, but now it just seemed ridiculous.

Each one of the three men were baffled, but not as much as we were. It was obviously a vengeful spirit, but why these specific methods and motives?

I yawned as I passed the threshold into our motel room. It was only 9:00, but I was emotionally drained from the day.

"I calling it a night." I said to my brothers, who were sitting at the small table, looking over the case, beers in hand.

"Oh, no way your getting away so easily. Come sit your ass down and explain yourself" Dean swung another chair to the table, looking at me expectantly.

"Explain what?" I eyes the chair hesitantly, not sitting down.

"Hanna, you haven't been acting... well, normal lately. First, you have a break down and won't tell us what it was about. Then you don't remember it, but later you say something about Drew, and you have forgotten everything in the past week."

"Okay, maybe my memories a bit spotty, but I was hung-over, so cut me some slack. I was probably just drunk crying last night, and Drew-"I didn't want to get into details, "We broke up, that's it, so quit your worrying."

"Did he hurt you? What happened?" Dean stood up, as if he was going to jump into the Impala and go bash Drew over the head with his rifle.

"Dean, I'm fine! Calm yourself, Jesus. The breakup was-" Damn, I was gonna be in the clear if my voice didn't wobble slightly. "It was mutual. Not his fault, so don't go hunting him down, it's not worth it." Shit, shit, shit. They definitely heard my voice crack that time. I turned around heading to my room.

Sam grabbed my arm and spun me around, but I didn't feel like dealing with them any more. I flipped him onto his back on the granite floors and he lay there in a daze.

"Dad would be so embarrassed for you right now," I taunted, feeling a little better after defeating my big brother. "Where is he, anyway? Would he know anything about this case?"

Sam and Dean stared at me, their mouths open in shock. I was confused; Dad usually helped us with these kinds of cases, so why wouldn't we ask for his help?

"Hanna Winchester, is that a joke? Because if it is, it's not funny. What's wrong with you?" Dean stood up, looking at me with his furious expression that he saved for rare occasions.

"What, why wouldn't we ask him for help? We can't get anywhere ourselves, so he might know something." I looked back at Sam, who had made his way up off of the ground to take the same expression as Dean.

"Yeah, okay Hanna, he might, so let's go call the dead up, and see if he wants to help us with this." Dean said sarcastically, turning his back on me and taking a swig of his beer.

I was taken aback. Why would Dean joke about Dad being dead? And why did Sam seem to be playing along? My memory was bad right now, but surely I couldn't forget something like that.

"Hanna, are you serious? Do you not remember?" I shook my head at Sam, who was, at first, angry, but his expression quickly turned to very concerned. "Dean, she doesn't remember, what is going on?" Dean turned around, taking two quick strides and putting his hand under my chin and tilting my head up towards him.

"What the hell-" I started to say but he shushed me, looking at something right above my eyes. I was startled and fell silent, which gave my brain time for Dad's death to sink into my thoughts. I couldn't believe I didn't remember. It was one thing to forget a case, we had been on hundreds of them. But Dad, my only living relative besides my brothers. Sure, he was harsh, but I needed an adult figure in my life to look up to, and I had always been him. The dreaded tears began to flow down my face, mostly for his death, but also for myself. I was scared as hell, and that was saying something since I was a hunter. This was not normal, even for my standards.

The tears kept coming, and Dean slowly took his hand from under my chin and turned to Sam, who had been watching Dean in confusion. They were talking in quick, urgent voices, but I didn't pay attention to what they were saying. I stumbled to the couch, stopping at the counter to grab the whiskey. I wanted to drown all of this out, forget it until everything was normal again, or as normal as my life was. I slumped onto the couch, taking the cap off the bottle and lifting it to my lips.

"Han, stop. You need to stay sober for this." Sam sat on the couch, swiping the bottle from my shaking hands. I tried in vain to win it back, but soon abandoned my efforts and sat with my hands limply in my lap, the river still silently streaming down my face.

"Hanna, you need to answer me honestly okay? We won't get mad, I promise." Dean sat down on the other side of me. "Is Drew- was Drew your true love?" I looked up at him, shocked by the question. There was no way he would have known that, it was my secret from my brothers, one of the very few secrets I only shared with myself. And Drew, of course.

I didn't say anything, but nodded slowly. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dean and Sam exchange looks of worry. I wondered why Dean would ask me such a stupid question that was completely irrelevant. It was completely out of the blue, and super chick-flicky. I racked my brain for a reason; it gave me something to think about besides Dad.

Then, I got it, and I was as scared as was the night Mom died. I looked up at my brothers, who were as tense as a mouse trap, baited and ready. "I'm the next victim," I whispered, and the stupid tears kept on coming.


End file.
